i Nyarna Elrond ar Nionë
by SilverElvenEyes
Summary: The tale of Elrond and Nionë; Nione, the niece of Elendil is being slowly posioned to death--can Elrond find out who is trying to kill her? But when the attacker goes after Elrond, it takes a fatal turn...
1. Chapter One: Wild Child

By: Lady of the Rings

Rating: PG-13 for some tense moments and poisons. 

Disclaimer:

 The lyrics in this chapter, namely those from _Wild Child in the CD __A Day Without Rain, are not mine and I do not claim them so do not sue me. They belong to their respective copyright. The only characters in this story that are mine are Celebmîr, Nionë, and Annos. All else belongs to Tolkien and I in no way claim his creation as my own, I am not making money off this, and this story was written for pure enjoyment only._

Spoilers: None

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Summary:

This is placed in a tiny pocket of time when Gil-galad and Elrond brought their army to Rivendell in the Second Age to meet with Elendil. Elendil's niece, Nionë is being poisoned—but why, and by who? I know, bad summary, but I really loved writing this and I think some of you might like reading. So give the first chapter a try, eh?

Series:

None yet!

Additional disclaimers: 

Within this text there are likely to be quite a few errors, and while I have gone over it numerous times with a fine-toothed comb, there are lightly to still be errors. Please forgive any that you find. I am not a Tolkien expert and do not claim to be. I will to my best to keep everything looking spick-and-span, but even writers make mistakes on their manuscripts. I know that things would have been really grim in the time that I am writing about, but such stories depress me. Just think of this as a little alternate reality story with Tolkien characters in a Tolkien world, and that it actually might have happened. Thank you for being so understanding. 

And now you can find out why I haven't updated my stories in a month!

Chapter One

_Let the rain fall down_

_Everywhere around you_

_Give into it now_

_Let the day surround you_

_You don't need a reason_

_Let the rain go on and on_

_Wild Child, sung by Enya_

            "My lord? We will be late if we tarry much longer."

            Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, let out a sigh. "Yes, Elrond, I know. But I seem to have lost my…"

            "No excuses, my lord," Elrond said firmly. Gently but resolutely he took the elf-lord's elbow and steered him out of his room. "We must meet with Elendil and his court."

            "Elendil I like. His court is something to be desired."

            Elrond laughed out loud. "My lord, really! They are our guests."

            "A very wise human once said, 'Fish and visitors begin to smell after three days'. They've been here three weeks. The stench is making me dizzy."

            Elrond shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "My lord…"

            "Elrond, no more lectures for the evening. I can not take another one."

            "It takes many to pound them into your hard head, my lord."

            Gil-galad pulled his elbow away with a harrumph. "If we must go, then I will not be dragged in by my herald."

            "No? I could have the rest of our court jump you and drag you in. I know *Celebmîr would find it amusing, among others."

            "Elrond, you know I hate social events."

            "You also know you are only complaining so you can complain. Come. You said yourself you like Elendil, and this Alliance is serious. I can be a buffer between you and the rest of the court. I will sit upon one side of you and Elendil upon the other."

            "My friend, I envy you," Gil-galad said calmly as they strode down the long, well-lit corridors. "I feel as though every marriageable daughter from a thousand miles around, all her sisters, and all her female cousins, friends, aunts, and grandmothers have come to attack us."

            Elrond hid a smile under one hand. "_Us my lord?"_

            "Me," the elf-lord said grudgingly. 

            "We could fight them off." Elrond's clear voice was light and ringing with barely-contained laughter.

            "You could be a little more sympathetic."

            "Forgive me, lord. But seeing you chased by a pack of mortal children and their mothers is highly…entertaining."

            Gil-galad gave a derisive, highly un-elven snort. "For you, maybe. Why do humans never take _no as an answer?"            _

            "Because they love the challenge," said a voice from behind.

            Surprised that someone had overheard, both elves stopped as a girl, who from her appearance was no more than twenty years old emerged from a doorway into the hall. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and twinkled merrily. Elrond blinked and looked again. For a moment he had thought her an elf.

            Both lords bowed to her. "My lady, to what do we owe this honor?" Gil-galad asked courteously, recognizing Elendil's niece. 

            She smiled impishly, showing that she was younger than Elrond had thought her at first. She curtsied. "I merely wish to walk with you to the banquet, my lord Gil-galad, my lord Elrond."

            "You are very welcome to join us, lady," Gil-galad answered warmly, smiling. "Perhaps my herald and lore-master, Master Elrond, could escort you?" Elrond shot him a sharp look. 

            "It would be my pleasure," he said nonetheless, promising himself revenge when he and his lord were alone. "My lady?" He offered her his arm.

            She hesitated and then stepped forward. Elrond looked into her eyes and frowned. She caught his eye and smiled a bit shyly. 

            "Lord Elrond, how kind of you."

            "Please, I am no lord. Elrond will due fine."

            Gil-galad gave Elrond a subtle wink; his gray eyes shone with barely delight. "I would escort this beautiful lady myself, but I am afraid if any of your women-folk here see me with another woman, lady, you might be dead before it could be straightened out."

            The girl—for now that she was closer they could both see that she was still quite young in the measure of Númenoreans—laughed. "I have much sympathy for you, my lord. I am Nionë, and being the King's niece means I have more than my fair share of suitors. I just wish they would go away and leave me in peace." 

            "Luck to you then, my lady," Gil-galad said gravely, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. "With your beauty you will find that very difficult."

            "My lord, you flatter far too much!" She blushed, ducking her head. Elrond caught Gil-galad's eye and slowly raised an eyebrow. Gil-galad gave him that _look that clearly said what he'd been told by his lord many times; "__Please, Elrond, __not the eyebrow thing." _

            Elrond glanced over at the girl and tasted the name in his mouth. Nionë. It was a pretty name. "Would you sit by me in the court?" he asked suddenly. She seemed intelligent enough—better to talk to someone with a head on their shoulders than the other tittering girls her age. 

            "Why, I would be honored." She sounded surprised. Elrond glanced at her again. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, as though her thoughts were miles away. When Gil-galad was not looking, Elrond moved his arm until her hand rested over his. He could feel her pulse beating against his hand, and he frowned. Nionë gave no response and he quickly shifted his wrist under her fingers again.

            She wore a long, sweeping dress of dove gray. Her long, rippling black hair tumbled unhindered down her back, and a silver coronet woven with pearls rested on the soft masses of her hair. Shorter locks curled around her face, framing a small nose and wide smile, a few freckles splattered a crossed her nose, and a soft chin. She was beautiful in even by an elven-sense. But he sensed sadness about her that Elrond did not yet understand.

            The hall for feasting was large, noisy, and already crowded. The herald announced the two elves and the lady, and everyone stood and bowed to them. The majority of the people were human, but still there were many elves there, tall and slender and dressed for the occasion. Gil-galad himself was a bit irritable from all the finery—he was much more at home with a sword than formal robes—seeing as he considered finery to be nothing more than, as he had once put it, "Flush and such, and everything mush." 

However, at his herald's insistence he wore a silver tunic over a royal blue shirt and breeches. His boots, elven-crafted, embroidered with silver thread and soundless, came up to his knees, and a heavy over-robe of silver lined with blue lightly swept the floor. A circlet of silver leaves rested upon his brow.

            Elrond was dressed much the same, but without the over robe and circlet. His long dark hair was elaborately decorated. Silver and blue beads were woven intricately into his hair. He looked every inch his lord's second hand man, and was completely oblivious to it.

            Elrond gently led the girl—Nionë, he reminded himself—to a seat between him and the rest of his court. He sat on his lord's left, and Elendil was upon Gil-galad's right. Elendil rose to greet them, clasping forearms in greeting to Gil-galad and Elrond, and bowing to Nionë. 

            The two lords, elven and human, immediately fell to discussing their plans for the upcoming battle, as the food had yet to arrive. Elrond held the chair as Nionë sat carefully down. Her eyes still held that slightly blank expression. 

            "They say you are a lore-master," she said softly, her voice oddly soothing to hear in the noisy room. Elrond sat beside her and poured both of them a bit of wine. 

            "I study history and medicine, yes."

            "Do you speak Quenya?" 

            "Yes. Yes, I do." Elrond studied her face closely as he sipped the heady red wine.

            "Would you be willing to teach it to me?"

            Elrond was so startled he nearly dropped his goblet. "I would be honored to, lady—but if I may ask, why do you wish to learn?"  

            "I know Sindarin already, though everyone tells me my accent is off. Perhaps you could help me learn Quenya? I know a few words, but that is all. It would be a great help to be able to speak to your people in your own tongues. Goodness knows you've done us that favor a thousand times over."

            A genuine, warm smile broke across Elrond's face. "I would love to teach you, my lady."

            "Please, just Nionë is fine."       

            "As you wish, Lady Nionë."

            They had no more time to speak. Even as Elrond finished speaking, a servant clapped twice and many servers began to bring out the food. The high table, where Elrond and his lord sat, were served first, and then progressively on down. Elendil waited until everyone had been served. Then he rose and raised his wineglass. "A toast, to our friends and companions, the Eldar race!" 

            All stood and toasted with a cheer. Gil-galad then stood. "A toast to our Edain kindred—may your lives be long and joyful." Another round of applause. 

            There were several more toasts, and before long Elrond noticed that Nionë was hiding a yawn. It was then he noticed the weary, dark circles under her eyes, carefully concealed by makeup. He ached to find what was wrong with her, but dare not touch her in public. It would cause a ghastly scandal, and place Gil-galad in a seriously degraded position. No, he would have to wait and see if he could deduce what was wrong with her from just watching. 

            After the foot was eaten, Elendil stood again. "If I may, I would ask a small favor of our minstrels and of our very own Lady Nionë."

            Nionë lowered her head slightly. Elrond glanced at her. Her cheeks seemed to have lost some of their color, and her skin was lusterless. He narrowed his eyes. He seemed to remember seeing these symptoms before, but where?

            "I would ask a dance from thee, lady," Elendil said kindly, bowing.

            Nionë stood up, tall and graceful. Indeed she was tall for her kind, for she was no shorter than Elrond, and she smiled as she spoke, hiding her fatigue.

            "I would be honored to, my lord." She curtsied.

            Nionë walked slowly down the aisle, and it was only then that Elrond noticed she wore no shoes. The cold stone floor must have been harsh on her bare feet. 

            She took her place at the head of the table, nodded to the minstrel and began to dance. As she danced, her voice wove into the song, reminding Elrond of sweet spring days, and rain dripping off of silver leaves.

_*Ever close your eyes_

_ever__ stop and listen_

_ever__ feel alive_

_and__ you've nothing missing_

_you__ don't need a reason_

_let__ the day go on and on._

_Let the rain fall down_

_everywhere__ around you_

_give__ into it now_

_let__ the day surround you_

_you__ don't need a reason_

_let__ the rain go on and on._

Here there was a pause in the lyrics. Her body twirled gracefully, her hair and her dress flying as she moved, graceful as any elf in dance.

_What a day, what a day to take to_

_what__ a way, what a way to make it through…_

_what__ a day, what a day to take to_

_a__ wild child. _

_Only take the time_

_from__ the helter skelter_

_every__ day you'll find _

_everything's__ in kilter_

_you__ don't need a reason_

_let__ the day go on and on._

_Every summer sun _

_every__ winter evening_

_every__ spring to come_

_every__ autumn leaving_

_you__ don't need a reason_

_let__ it all go on and on._

Her body moved like a fluid, smooth, with no rough edges. Every movement was refined, every motion beautiful. There were more lyrics, but Elrond was not listening to her words anymore, but rather her voice. She moved like an elf, sang like an elf, had to be an elf—there was no mistake. She was at least a half-elf, or he was a dwarf. 

At last Nionë finished, her head tilted back, her hair falling over her shoulders like a black river, one long, slender arm stretched towards the sky, as though beckoning the stars. 

The applause was nearly deafening. Blushing, Nionë made her way back to her chair beside Elrond. He stood and bowed and she laughed, happy and breathless. 

"Oh, how I love dancing!" she gasped, eyes alight. She seemed younger now, happier, healthier and more at peace. She beamed as she sat, still blushing, and tried to regain her breath. "I've never gotten that dance right, before now."

"It was beautiful, lady. Tell me, Lady Nionë…where did you learn it?"

"My mother taught it to me. Why?"

"May I ask you a personal question?"

            "Of course."

            "Was your mother an elf?"

            She looked startled, but nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

            "Not at first, but your movements are too graceful to be truly human, and you are very beautiful, even by our standards."

            She relaxed back into her chair, and sipped her wine. "Yes, I am a half-elf. Do your people have a taboo against such things?"

            Elrond smiled reassuringly. "No, and I hope we never do. Such marriages are not evil, though they are sad."

            "Sad? How?"

            "When one so long-lived gives up their life for a short period of time, we mourn their passing. In only a short period of our time they have passed beyond this world."

            She looked at me for a long time. "Your people really do see time differently, don't you?"

            "Yes. For us it moves both very fast and very slow. Fast because all else fleets by, and we ourselves do not change. Slow because we do not count the passing seasons as a year."

            Suddenly she went terribly pale and let out a faint gasp. Her cheeks lost all color and her goblet dropped to the table, spilling her wine on the silver cloth, spreading a blood-red stain. Sweat beaded her brow.

            "My lady?" Elrond exclaimed, concerned as he leaned forward.

            Just before his fingers brushed her wrist she sat upright again, calm once more. "It is nothing," she said dismissively, and that was the end of their conversation. 

*     *     *     *

            "I am sure of it, my lord. Lady Nionë is very, very sick."

            "Then why has she not sought help from a human healer?" Gil-galad was struggling with his heavy over-robe. Elrond helped pull it off and grimaced at its weight. It was as heavy as the armor Gil-galad wore into full battle. 

            "I do not know. I believe it is her half-elven blood that is sustaining her. But whatever ails here, it is serious and getting worse."

            "Elves and Númenoreans do not get sick, Elrond."

            "I know. I think she's been poisoned."

            Gil-galad swung around sharply. "Poison? Do you know what kind?"

            "Until I can examine her and study her symptoms, I can only guess. I have a suspicion, though."

            "What?"

            "Belladonna."

            "Why belladonna?"

            "Have you seen her eyes? At first I thought her eyes were just very dark in color, but when I saw them closely I realized that they are largely dilated. Also, she ate nothing but the mildest foods, and didn't touch the wine, suggesting stomach upset. She was out of breath after her dancing, though being half-elf the dance should hardly have changed her breathing at all. Belladonna poisoning has all these symptoms."

            Gil-galad looked very grave. "What do you suggest?"

            "I think someone is trying to kill her. Right now the best cure is stopping the poison before it kills her. She might not even notice the small amounts that are being put in her foot or drink, but the result is the same. Such poisons are very serious, my lord."

            "I know that, Elrond. I'm not that naïve. But why didn't you tell her what you suspected?"

            "I wished to tell you first. It would not have done to make a scene in front of the court."

            "Elendil should know."

            "Yes, he should." 

            Both elves were silent for a long moment. Gil-galad carefully removed his boots and sat down in a chair, relief fleeting across his face as he propped his feet up. "You had better tell her, Elrond. Do you want me to come with you?"

            "No. No, it's all right. I'll go alone."

            Elrond stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. He took two steps, jerked sharply, and was out before he even hit the floor. 

*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*

The more reviews the fast I update! :-) I have the next chapter ready, you know…so please review! Celebmîr, by the way, means silver stream and is Sindarin. 


	2. Chapter Two: Only Time

By: Lady of the Rings

Rating: PG-13 for some tense moments and poisons. 

Disclaimer:

 The lyrics in this chapter, namely those from _Only Time in the CD __A Day Without Rain, are not mine and I do not claim them so do not sue me. They belong to their respective copyright. The only characters in this story that are mine are Celebmîr, Nionë, and Annos. All else belongs to Tolkien and I in no way claim his creation as my own, I am not making money off this, and this story was written for pure enjoyment only._

Spoilers: None

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Summary:

This is placed in a tiny pocket of time when Gil-galad and Elrond brought their army to Rivendell in the Second Age to meet with Elendil. Elendil's niece, Nionë is being poisoned—but why, and by whom? And when the attacker goes after Elrond, things take a deadly turn…

Series:

None yet!

Additional disclaimers: 

Within this text there are likely to be quite a few errors, and while I have gone over it numerous times with a fine-toothed comb, there are likely to still be errors. Please forgive any that you find. I am not a Tolkien expert and do not claim to be. I will to my best to keep everything looking spick-and-span, but even writers make mistakes on their manuscripts. I know that things would have been really grim in the time that I am writing about, but such stories depress me. Just think of this as a little alternate reality story with Tolkien characters in a Tolkien world, and that it actually might have happened. Thank you for being so understanding. Also, a '*' means there is a translation or a note at the end of the story. I put this next to all of the elvish.  

Author's note: TMOS—Thank you for pointing that out! *smacks head* I completely forgot that _mîr in elvish means "jewel" while __sîr means "river." I had meant Celebmîr's name to mean Silver river, but silver jewel actually sounds better. Just clarifying that. _

Also, if you're looking for an ironic laugh, go back to chapter one and _carefully reread the first sentence of "additional disclaimers." I corrected it in this chapter, but I think you'll get a kick out of it anyway._

I know, it was an evil cliff hanger. *grin* It's not so evil this time, though.

Chapter Two

_Who can say where the road goes_

_Where the day flows_

_Only time_

_And who can say if your love grows_

_As your heart choose_

_Only time_

_-Only Time, sung by Enya_

            Elrond ruefully rubbed the lump forming on the back of his head, trying to ignore the sharp, throbbing pain in his temples. He sat in Elendil's personal quarters with Gil-galad, Elendil, Nionë, and Nionë's sharp-eyed and surly father, Annos. Nionë's face had gone white with fear; she twisted the folds of her dress between her hands. Elendil sat next to her, one hand laid comfortingly over hers. 

            "You are sure, Master Elrond?" Elendil's face was intense in the firelight. "There can be no mistake that my niece has been poisoned?"

            "I have examined her myself, my lord. All the symptoms are correct. I cannot see what else it would be that ails her."

            "Who—" Nionë cleared her throat and continued. "Who would wish me harm? And why would they attack _you, Lord Elrond?"_

            "A jealous suitor?" Elendil suggested. "One of those young men who think, 'if I can't have her, no one can'?"

            Annos could contain himself no longer. "And what of the elves?" he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at Gil-galad and Elrond. "I hear no one accusing _them of poisoning my child. Why is it always __men who are the evil ones?"_

            "Father…"

            "Be still, Nionë."

            "But—"

            "I said be still!"

            Nionë's eyes blazed suddenly. "You're only blaming them because of my mother."

            Annos looked at his daughter with thinly veiled disgust and fury. "This is neither the time nor the place, Nionë."

            "No. It's never the right time for you, father." She stood suddenly, and it was then Elrond realized she was taller than her father by nearly half a foot. Gathering her robes in her hands, she left the room, her face pinched with anger. Annos turned to storm after her. 

            "Forgive me my lords. I must speak to my daughter."

            Elendil winced as the door was slammed closed behind them. 

            Both elves could hear the fight clearly from the next room, though they obviously did not want to. Elendil noticed their expressions and suggested they retire to the balcony.

            Elrond's head hurt. Whoever had hit him from behind obviously did not know elven autonomy—that, or Elrond had been very, very lucky. His attacker had hit on one of the hardest parts of the skull. The blow was enough to stun him, but if his attacker had struck just a finger's breadth to the left, he or she would have killed him. 

            But Elbereth did his head hurt. 

            He begged weariness from the two lords and made his way down to his rooms. The room seemed a little hazy—maybe he'd been hit harder than he had thought. Guards were posted outside of his quarters—which he shared with Gil-galad until the army left, seeing as they needed every room they could spare—and also Nionë's. He staggered past his lord's bed towards the smaller room that connected to Gil-galad's through a short hallway. He undressed and pulled on his sleeping robes, and then he lie down on the wonderfully soft bed and fell fast asleep. 

*     *     *     *

            "Lord Elrond! Lord Gil-galad! Wake up, please, wake up!"

            Gil-galad and Elrond collided in the darkness, still blinded by dream-rest, and only just managed to keep from stabbing each other with hastily drawn swords. In the darkened rooms Elrond raced to the door and flung it open, expecting an attack. The pain in his head was less—bless the gods that elves healed quickly—but the noise was beginning to give him a headache again.

            Nionë stood before him, her face pale, clutching a candle in the darkness. Her hands shook. "It's my father," she whispered.

            She led Elrond down the hall, her bare feet slapping the cold floors. Dressed only in a light shift she must have been freezing, but she did not show it. As they drew closer to her father's quarters, Elrond could hear a commotion going on. 

            Nionë rounded the corner at a run and collided with Erestor. Both staggered back, but Nionë pushed by, hurrying to her father. 

            Elrond plucked Erestor's sleeve. "What happened here, my friend?"

            Erestor looked sad and grave. "The Lord Annos was found poisoned in his bed, my lord."  

            Elrond paled visibly and moved to follow Nionë. 

            He pushed his way through the crowd and found her weeping at Annos' bedside. On a table next to the bed sat a half-finished glass of wine. 

            "Nionë?"

            "I'm here, father," she whispered. She leaned over him and took his hand.

            "I can't see you, Nionë."

            "You'll be fine, father."

            "I feel so ill, my daughter…"

            "You'll be fine." Her voce broke as she finished speaking. She looked up at Elrond, her eyes begging him to do something. 

            He sniffed the wine carefully, and lightly touched the tip of his tongue to the liquid. He frowned and dipped one edge of his sleeve in the drink. Then he drew his knife.           

            "Elrond?"

            Elendil entered, his face gray with concern; Isildur, his son, turned and began pushing people out of the room, giving Elrond more room to work. Isildur glanced at the bed, shook his head and sighed, then left the room and closed the door firmly behind him. Elrond shook his head at Elendil, warning him to be silent. 

            "Nionë, cut my palm."

            "W-what?"

            "Take this knife and cut my palm. Quickly, do as I say!"

            Shakily she took the knife from him and made a thin incision a crossed his palm. Elrond barely flinched; he pressed his wet sleeve against the wound and hissed sharply.

            "What is it?" Gil-galad had also entered. 

            "Wood alcohol."

            Elendil hissed with disgust. "Can you cure him?"

            Elrond's face was troubled. "His body will rid itself of the toxin, in time. But the blindness, I'm afraid, is permanent."

            Nionë sobbed quietly at her father's bedside. She gasped suddenly and Elrond looked over. Annos had grabbed her hair and was yanking her closer.

            "It was an elf, I know it was," he hissed, sitting up and grabbing her by both shoulders. She looked up into his sightless eyes and tried to pull back. "Listen to me, you little brat!"

            Elrond stepped forward to defend Nionë, but Gil-galad stopped him with an outstretched hand. The elf-lord's eyes held silent warning.

            "You keep away from them," Annos hissed as he shook his daughter fiercely, his teeth gleaming in rage. "Do you hear me? _Keep away!" He shook her harder. _

            She let out a cry and ripped away. "_Tye ulundo!*" she whispered._

            "What did you call me?" Annos' voice was cold.

            "Nothing, father. I was frightened. I don't know what I said."

"You damn well do!" he shouted. "What did you say? You little elvish slut! Get back here!"

            She backed away from him. He turned his head this way and that, trying to find her. _"What did you say?" he screamed. Nionë turned and fled, pushing past Elendil. _

Down the long corridors of Imladris she ran. She sped as though wings touched her feet, tears flowing freely down her face. Her heart was in her throat and she felt cold all through her body. 

            She threw open the doors leading to the gardens and plunged into the night. Her dress caught on a nail in the door. Impatiently she yanked on it, ripping it free. 

            Down she ran across the soft, cold grass. She stumbled in the dark—only stars lit her way. At last she fell with a cry, skinning her hands and her knees. Cold and miserable she curled up, crying silently. 

            She jumped and shivered when warm hands touched her shoulders, but did not move. No one but an elf could sneak up upon her without her knowing. She lay still as Elrond knelt and gently covered her with his cloak. She shivered uncontrollably. 

            "Lady?" His voice was gentle as he took her hands in his. The stabbing pains where rocks had been driven into her flesh eased, and a bit of warmth crept back into her numb body.

            "My lord." Her voice was hoarse. "My father…he…"

            "_Quildë*," he whispered. "Let me help you up."_

            She scrambled up without taking his hand. Her eyes, no longer dilated from the belladonna were now a beautiful gray, soft and sad in the evening light.

            Elrond drew her to a bench and sat down. She sat beside him and drew his thick cloak about her. Their shoulders touched and she sighed suddenly, weariness hitting her like a blow. Her head rested lightly against the elf's shoulder; she didn't notice Elrond stiffen almost imperceptibly, and within moments she was fast asleep. 

            Elrond tucked the cloak around her, and then gently lifted her, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She murmured and sighed, but made no other motion, turning her face into his chest. 

            He met no one in the short walk to her room, for which he was grateful. Gently he placed her in her bed. Tear-trails sparkled in the moonlight. He wiped them away with his finger. "_Fúmë, __titta quén*," he whispered, placing a hand on her head. "__Fúmë."_

*     *     *     *

            Over the next few days, as the army that was to set forth against Sauron began to gather at Imladris, Elrond and Nionë spent long hours together as he taught her Quenya, the High Elven tongue. She was quick to learn, and practiced whenever she could. She would say hello, good bye, good morning, good evening, even "your hair smells," to Elrond when she saw him. He would gently correct her pronunciation here, her stress on a syllable there, laugh with her when she accidentally said something she had not meant. It was not long before she could hold short, slow conversations with the other elves in Quenya. They were mutually delighted and intrigued that she could speak both Sindarin and Quenya, and Nionë was content. 

            "You do realize that just about the entire human court believes you are sleeping with her?" Gil-galad said one afternoon in a completely blasé tone of voice as he had lunch with Elrond out on their balcony.

            Elrond put his wine glass down and stared at his lord and friend in horror. "My lord?"

            "No, Elrond. Don't give me those wide, innocent looking gray eyes. You know what humans think about an un-chaperoned man and woman in a room together."

            "Do they have so little trust in her? In me?"

            "It is not a matter of trust, Elrond. For humans the temptation of being alone is often too great, even if they are only friends."

            "She is a child by my eyes! I wouldn't—couldn't—take advantage of her. Not though she was human, elf, dwarf or what not!"

            "I know that; the elves know that. Elendil knows that. But the rift that divides the humans and the elves is growing, Elrond. One day they may hate us simply for what we are. The court does not approve of your actions."

            Elrond was growing angry. "And do I care what they think?"

            "You will if you are wise, my friend. The court carries much power. Nionë's father, Annos, in particular."

            "Annos is blind now."

            "But he is not deaf. Listen, my friend!" He caught a hold of Elrond's sleeve and gazed into the younger elf's eyes, his own nearly black in the shadow of the building, honest concern in his face. "For her sake, be careful. Do not ruin her life over your own pride. Sit outside and teach her where all can see, if you will do naught else. Don't be seen alone with her. Is this asking too much?"

            "Do you ask me or order me, my lord?"

            Gil-galad sighed and released him. "Fine, Elrond, be that way. But I warn you, no good can come of this."

            Elrond left the room without answering.

*     *     *     *

            "I have told you, I am not interested in marrying your son," Nionë said irritably to the noble woman who, for the fifth time, had come demanding she marry her son. "I am not ready."

            The woman's face grew dark with anger. "You were ready enough for that elf-lord," she muttered as she turned to leave. But Nionë had inherited her mother's sensitive ears and overheard. 

            "Elrond? What's he got to do with this?"

            "Oh, don't think we don't see the way you look at him, the way he smiles at you. You're sleeping together—why not just come out and say it?"

            The woman reeled back in surprise as Nionë lashed out, slapping her. "How _dare you?" Nionë breathed, enraged. "Elrond is a friend, naught more. If you think else-wise you are an idiot and I have no time for idiots." She slammed her door in the woman's face._

            "A lover's quarrel, eh?" the woman said loudly at the closed door. 

            Nionë yanked open the door, about to throw the infuriating woman across the room, but she was gone. 

            Nionë's hands shook slightly as she changed into trousers and a tunic. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she frowned. "Isa! Rele! Come quickly!"

*     *     *     *

            "Well, it appears my niece is a tad late," Elendil commented as he, Gil-galad, Elrond, Erestor and several other members of the court mounted up for a day's riding. "She should be along soon."

            "I'm here, my lord uncle."         

            Gil-galad blinked as Nionë emerged. A hawk, free from tethers, sat patiently on her shoulder. She led her horse, which wore nothing but a decorative headstall, and was dressed in simple brown trousers and a green tunic held in place by a leather belt. Her eyes sparkled with delight and mischief. 

            Elendil seemed stumped. So did the rest of the court, which, dressed in their best finery, looked on at the King's niece's peasant clothes, aghast. 

            "Lady, have you been feverish?" one courtier finally asked. "Your hair…"

            "I had Isa cut it this morning. It looks nice, don't you think?" Her voice and face was open and completely innocent. 

            Her hair was all cut off—the new cut made her face look boyish and mischievous. It came down to her ears; she could have been an apprentice for her looks—she'd even bound her already small breasts flat. If it weren't for her natural feminine beauty she could easily pass as a man.

            "My lady…" Nionë silenced the woman with a look, and tossed her bird into the air. She then sprang lightly onto her white stallion's back, and maneuvered over towards her uncle and Gil-galad.

            "Nionë, what possessed you?" Elendil demanded in a low voice.

            "If I get one more offer for marriage I'll kill someone," she answered just as quietly. "I want a man who likes me for me. Not for my looks. And _I will choose the man, not his mother me."_

            She maneuvered until Gil-galad was between her and her uncle, her face tight with anger. 

            "You are wise, lady." Gil-galad's voice was hardly hearable above the impatient pawing of horse hooves.

            "How so, my lord?"

            "You choose a man who loves you for you—not for your looks. Too often it is the other way around."

            She looked him in the eye. "Who said I had chosen?"

            Nionë urged her horse on without another word, allowing her stallion to stretch into a canter. Elendil matched her stride for stride, with Gil-galad and Elrond on his right and Nionë on his left. The court followed, muttering. 

            The ride was brisk and full of laughter. One Nionë calmed a bit she was happily talking to the elves in both Sindarin and Quenya, speaking in carefully enunciated but perfectly understandable elvish. Erestor was completely delighted with her progress. 

            "Lady, you speak almost as one born to this tongue!" he exclaimed delightedly.

            Her eyes twinkled. "Why, lord, you flatter me! But I do not have that wonderful accent you elves use."

            "It comes from several lifetimes of practice, lady."

            Nionë only laughed. 

            The spot they stopped at was a large green meadow beside a burbling stream. As the men took the horses to water, the women, both elven and human, spread out the blankets and the food. Nionë did neither, but instead spoke softly to her hawk, who had returned to her shoulder. 

            "If I may ask you, lady," said a falconer over his bread and cheese, a kind man by the name of Erentel. "How do you keep him without tethering?"

            "I asked him to stay," she replied calmly. Elrond nearly swallowed his tongue. He had never heard of a human speaking to animals in their own languages before—and being understood.

            "Asked him?" The man was honestly puzzled. "How?"

            "In elvish. Most animals know one form or another."

            Erestor smiled. "Yes, a great delight of our ancestors was speaking to animals, stone and trees alike. Most creatures still understand and respond to it."

            "Trees? Stones?" A second man, fair-haired and skeptical, leaned over to join the conversation. "How could you talk to a rock?"

            "Everything speaks, in a way," Nionë said quietly. "It's not what they say, but how you listen that matters."

            Gil-galad looked at her, really looked at her, and realized then why his friend and herald cared so much for her. She was truly an exceptional woman. Nionë noticed his glance and smiled. 

            The hawk shifted on her shoulder, holding its wings out for balance. It tapped his beak against her head, very gently. Erentel gasped in wonder as she turned to look it in the eye, her face hardly an inch from those rending claws and beak. There was no fear in her face as she stood up.

            "_Mára raimë, otorno,*" she whispered, and launched him into the air. _

            Elrond saw the movement at the edge of his vision. "_Nionë! Undu!*"___

            An arrow whizzed by Elrond's ear and struck Nionë through the chest.

*     *     *     *

            **The statements hereafter are written by King Gil-galad, by his personal hand in his journal after said encounter:**

_            Nionë made no sound; her breath caught in her throat as an arrow slammed between her ribs, just under her left breast. She staggered slightly, and then straightened—even as a second arrow whistled with a sickening clunk into her stomach. She tried to speak, but blood dribbled from between her lips and she choked. She doubled over without a sound and collapsed. _

_            That's when the screaming started. Elendil sprang to his feet and drew his sword, pushing his wife to the ground beside him. Erestor seized a bow and let loose a volley of arrows into the treetops, where the shot had come from. There was a cry of pain, and something fell from the tree. Grimly, Erestor, Isildur, and several other men set out after it._

_            Elrond caught Nionë as she fell, and lowered her down. Her eyes were wide and she struggled to breathe. Her wounds were mortal, there could be no mistake._

_            She gasped suddenly in pain, and whimpered piteously. Elrond drew her head into his lap and placed his hands aside her head. His eyes burned with a feverish light that I had never seen before—it frightened me. Her breath caught again and she shuddered horribly. He said something; I was too far away to hear what. Her eyelids closed._

_            I've seen Elrond glow slightly when he heals someone—it's an inner light that is unmistakable to those who know what to look for. Faint, yes, but it was there. With Nionë he burned like a small sun—I couldn't even look at him directly. I squinted at his hands instead—he burned too hot to come closer than a few feet. I heard gasps and cries of fear, but they were all human. The elves were silent and still._

_            He reached for the arrow under her left breast, and with a quick jerk pulled it free. The arrowhead was dark with her blood. Nionë screamed. Elrond spoke again, his voice full of power and compassion. The girl was still. Elrond flared briefly, and then the light dimmed. I could see him clearly. He reached for the second arrow. Nionë's face was pale and her eyes were still closed. She breathed without struggle. He yanked the second arrow free, and again she screamed. Elrond cried out as well and the light encircling them expanded, blazing, blotting out the sun. _

_            Then it was gone. I blinked the spots away from my eyes. Nionë rested with her hands on her breast, a small smile on her face. Elrond was gray and shaking as he stood. I stepped forward and caught him as he fell. He was warm, as though he had been baked in an oven. I looked at Nionë and sucked in my breath sharply. Her clothes were tattered and blood-stained, and she was deep in slumber, but her flesh was healed without a mark, and she was one of few alive to tell of surviving a lung and stomach punctured by barbed arrows war-arrows. _

_            It was nothing short of a miracle. _

*     *     *     *

            Such miracles do not come without a price. 

            Elrond struggled within his glob of light to save the girl he cared for. Her soul, to his eyes, was a clean, healthy white. No dark lines running through it to signify evil; no red lines running through to signify wrongdoing. Only blue lines, signifying illness and pain.

            She whimpered. "_Quildë hinya*," he whispered._

            Nionë sighed and closed her eyes. "Elbereth, save her." Elrond bent nearer to the girl's head. He grasped the arrow under her breast. "I will sacrifice whatever you wish for her." With a quick jerk he pulled it free. She screamed and he steadied her, easing the pain. "Whatever is required I will give. Let me heal her." He reached for the second arrow and pulled it free. Again she cried out. 

            _I hear you, Elrond Eärendil's son._

_            Let me help her. Let me save her. I offer my service to you in return._

_            I do not take sacrifices of blood or soul, you know that Eärendil's son._

_            I do not offer such a sacrifice—I sacrifice my freedom. I will not leave Middle-Earth until Sauron is vanquished forever. It is the pact I offer you._

_            Very well, Elrond Eärendil's son. Your pact is accepted. Your passage to Valinor is stayed until Sauron is vanquished. In return, the girl will be saved._

            The light around them pulsed and flared. Elrond screamed as suddenly something divine—and very power—worked through him, healing Nionë and sealing the wounds. He gasped, his head reeling from the experience. The pain in his head was unbearable. 

            Elrond stood up and collapsed in the arms of his lord.

*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*

Tye ulundo! = you monster!

Quildë = hush, quiet, rest

Fúmë, titta quén = Sleep, little one.

Mára raimë, otorno = good hunting, brother

Undu = down

Quildë hinya = hush/quiet/shush/ my child


	3. Chpater Three: Angel's Tears

By: Lady of the Rings

Rating: PG-13 for some tense moments and poisons. 

Disclaimer:

 The lyrics in this chapter, namely those from _China Roses in the CD __The Memory of Trees, are not mine and I do not claim them so do not sue me. They belong to their respective copyright. The only characters in this story that are mine are Celebmîr, Nionë, and Annos. All else belongs to Tolkien and I in no way claim his creation as my own, I am not making money off this, and this story was written for pure enjoyment only. Also, the quotes from the book __Morgoth's Ring were taken without permission, and as I am making no money off of this and again it was strictly for enjoyment only, please do not sue me. Thanks. :D_

Spoilers: None

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Summary:

This is placed in a tiny pocket of time when Gil-galad and Elrond brought their army to Rivendell in the Second Age to meet with Elendil. Elendil's niece, Nionë is being poisoned—but why, and by whom? And when the attacker goes after Elrond, things take a deadly turn…

Series:

None yet!

Additional disclaimers: 

Within this text there are likely to be quite a few errors, and while I have gone over it numerous times with a fine-toothed comb, there are likely to still be errors. Please forgive any that you find. I am not a Tolkien expert and do not claim to be. I will to my best to keep everything looking spick-and-span, but even writers make mistakes on their manuscripts. I know that things would have been really grim in the time that I am writing about, but such stories depress me. Just think of this as a little alternate reality story with Tolkien characters in a Tolkien world, and that it actually might have happened. Thank you for being so understanding. I also know that Elrond would not be spending his time teaching a too-perfect girl how to speak elvish, but that's the way the story came out. Also, a '*' means there is a translation or a note at the end of the story. I put this next to all of the elvish.  

Author's note: Because of some reviewers comments about this story, namely AfterEver, I seriously considered not posting the rest of this story, even though it was already finished. I wasn't sure if I could handle someone ripping apart a story that I so dearly loved to write more than twice. I like constructive criticism, but you have to realize, I know its not perfect, and that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that it's a silly little story that I loved to write, in fact, it was possibly my favorite to write out of all, though it's not the best, and that's all I care about. And since some people did enjoy it, I am posting the rest for them. It's not fair to keep the ending from everyone just because of two or three discouraging reviews. Besides, I never said Nione wasn't a mary-sue character; and I don't care if she is. If I were to write each and every story to my uttermost ability, I'd wear myself out before I got half way through my life. That's what fanfiction is fun—fun little stuff that is usually junk so you don't have to write brilliant, completely perfect stories every single time. I know that this story isn't all that great. But I love it anyway. Because I know I could, if I wanted to, fix it and make it better. But because I have other manuscripts that I value more, I do not. So as much as I appreciate knowing what you did and did not like about my stories, I am human, and I did truly love this story—so go easy on me. Thanks.

-LadyoftheRings

Chapter Three

_Who can tell me if we have heaven?_

_Who can say the way it should be_

_Moonlight holly, the Sappho Comet_

_Angel's tears below a tree_

_You talk of the break of morning_

_As you view the new aurora_

_Cloud in crimson, the key of heaven_

_One love carved in acajou._

_-__China__ Roses, sung by Enya_

            _Warmth, freedom from pain, and a pleasant tickling sensation in her nose.__ A light touch. A soft kiss on her brow; a voice murmuring in her ear. A door opening—someone cried out. She opened her eyes._

*     *     *     *

            Elrond opened the door to find a shadowy figure bending over Nionë. He let out a yell and charged. The thing looked up, turned, and sprang out of her open window. Nionë opened her eyes and sat up.

            "What's going on?" she asked, confused. Her head felt funny and nothing seemed to focus. Elrond came back to her bed. 

            "Someone was trying to poison you again, I would guess," he said grimly. "How to you feel?"

            "All right, I suppose."

            "I'll go alert the guards—"

            "No!"

            He looked at her in surprise. There was a strange menace to her voice. "What?"

            "Don't tell anyone. Please."

            "Someone just tried to kill you, Nionë. And here he or she tried again."

            "And you saved me—and for that I owe you more than I can ever repay. But I ask you to go in debt with me one more time—don't tell."

            "Why? I charge you, Lady of Númenor to tell me what you doth hide." He had changed into the formal way of speaking, his eyes boring into her, suspicion deep in his handsome face.

            "It's not what you think, Elrond," she said softly. "There are two factors in this problem. Two chessmen. One is white and one is black. Black only moves after white."

            Elrond frowned but had no more time to press her for at that moment the door opened and Isa entered along with Elendil.

            "How do you feel, m'dear?" he asked, placing an affectionate hand on her head. She smiled up at him. 

            "Better, Uncle. A bit sore, perhaps, but all right."

            Elendil turned to Elrond. "I have never seen—or heard—of anyone healing such wounds with a touch, my lord Elrond. You saved my darling niece. If there is anything in my power I can give you in return, please tell me."

            Elrond smiled. "That your niece lives is all that is important to me, Lord Elendil."

            "Please consider my offer."

            "I will; but I tell you that truly I can wish for no thing that you can give me."

            Elendil gave him a strange look at his choice of words, but bowed his head anyway. "If you change your mind, my offer still stands."

            Elrond shook his head. "I thank you, Lord Elendil."

            Elendil nodded and left the room. Elrond followed him.

            "Elrond?"

            Elrond hesitated at the door and looked back. Elendil paused, waiting for him just out of earshot. "Yes, Nionë?"

            "What did you sacrifice to heal me?" Her gray eyes were dark with sadness. 

            "What did I sacrifice?"

            "Come, Elrond, I am young but not stupid. Tell me true, what did you give to save me?"            

            Elrond faltered. "Nothing, child. It was nothing."

            Nionë's eyes were accusing, and her lips were pressed. Then she sighed and looked away. "All right. I understand you don't want me to feel responsible."

            "Who was that man standing over you, Nionë?" Elrond asked seriously. "While we are on the subject of secrets..."            

            She shook her head. "It was nothing, Elrond. A figment of your imagination."

            "You're hiding something, Nionë."

            "Aren't we all?"

            Elrond left without another word.

_*     *     *     *_

_            A caress on her skin. A kiss upon the lips. A murmured word in her ear. A brush of fingertips against her cheek. A soft chuckle. She opened her eyes and smiled._

*     *     *     *

            Nionë blinked her eyes sleepily, a gentle smile curving her lips. She always enjoyed that particular dream. Stretching she glanced at the sundial on her balcony. It was about three in the morning, and late as it was she was not tired. Stretching happily in her bed she stood and threw her thick cloak, emblazoned with the emblems of her house across her shoulders and moved barefoot into the night. 

            Her door was one of the few that opened into the beautiful gardens aside Rivendell. Flowers touched the gray-stoned path, brushing against her ankles. She laughed suddenly and broke into a run. Her short-cropped hair was pinned back, and was already beginning to grow back. Her eyes shone in delight, breathless with excitement. The stars gave just enough light to see the path before her. 

            Laughing and staggering she rounded a corner and stopped dead. Gil-galad, who had heard her coming from some ways off, was watching her with a smile on his face. She blushed suddenly and made to leave. 

            "No, please stay." His voice was soft, almost inaudible, but his smile was kind as he stood and offered her his hand. "Sit by me a while, Lady."

            Her eyes searched his as she took his hand. "What comfort could a mortal child offer a lord of the Eldar?"

            His smile grew. "You have no burden of age upon you, young one. That in itself is refreshing, and soothing."       

            She relaxed and sat beside him, crossing her ankles and absently watching the stars through half-lidded eyes. Gil-galad looked off into the distance. He had abandoned his heavy, formal robes for a simple tunic and breeches in his house's colors. 

            "My lord?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Did you really think Elrond was having an affair with me?"

            Gil-galad looked at her in surprise. "No, my dear, I knew him better than that. Why?"

            She sighed. "One at least believes me."

            "Are the rumors that vicious?"

            "You wouldn't believe it." She smiled ruefully. "You were right, you know."

            "Oh?"

            "All of you. Humans and elves were never meant to live side by side. We screw each others lives up too much." Her voice was sad.

            "I don't know about that," he answered quietly. "Elrond has done a world of good for you."

            "Yes, and I am grateful—you all have. But we—humans—have given you nothing but grief in return."

            "There you are wrong, my dear. I have never seen Elrond so light-hearted and joyful. He is young still, in the ways of the world. Only a few thousand years old. He will live to be far older, and will live to see both things great and terrible, so I predict. My littling, you have done much for him, for me, and for us all. One of our greatest joys is teaching. The Eldar knew almost from the instant we met your kind, or at least some of us did, that your species would eventually dominate Middle-Earth. It is something many have feared and rued bitterly, but we knew it all the same. But we still loved to teach you—first speech and then other things. We still do. You remind us that life is fleeting and must be treasured, and that good people can become corrupted and bad people can be undefiled. You live so short and burn so bright, a light in the dark." He put a hand on her shoulder. "No, littling, you have given us much. And now I give something to you—a piece of your history I believe you should know. I will tell you a story, if you will listen."

            "Of course." Her eyes were wide, like a young elfling begging to hear a story. 

            "*Now, many years past, the Eldar learned that according to the lore of your folk, the Edain, the short-lived nature of your bodies was not so by right, but had become so by the malice of Morgoth. Now, it was not clear if your people meant it had become so by the general marring of Arda*—which we ourselves have attested to the waning of the strength in our own bodies—or by some malice in particular against men by Morgoth, or by both. But if your mortality was indeed because of some special spite against man, then the Eldar were frightened to be sure, for it meant that Morgoth's power, at least in the beginning, was greater even than we understood. And the original nature of humans was far different from any other creature abiding in Middle-Earth. 

            "It chanced that during a time of spring, Finrod Felagund was for a while a guest in the house of Belemir, and he fell into talking with a Wise-woman, Andreth. And here I will abbreviate their words, for it is too long a tale to tell tonight. For Finrod listened in wonder and horror as Andreth told him she did not believe that humans had come to own so short a span of life by mere chance, or the will of Eru, but by some malice of Morgoth directed at them. Morgoth perceived them as a great threat, perhaps, and wished to lessen that threat. Finrod warned her, nonetheless, that bitterness towards the Quendi would bode no good for either people, for out of the lies of the Enemy bred envy, which fuels hate. And he reminded her that death and the shadow of Morgoth are not the same; for death is a word we give to something tainted by him, and therefore evil; but without the taint it would not be evil. 

" 'What do ye know of death?'" Andreth answered. "Ye do not fear it, because ye do not know it."

" 'We have seen it, and we fear it,' answered Finrod. 'We too may die, Andreth; and we have died. My father's father was cruelly slain, and many have followed him, exiles in the night, in the cruel ice, the insatiable sea. And in Middle-earth we have died, by fire and by smoke, by venom and the cruel blades of battle. Fëanor is dead and Fingolfin was trodden under the feet of the Morgoth.'

"And she spoke that still it was different; for in the Eldar, she said, death was a wound, avoidable and not inescapable. Whereas with Men it was unstoppable—any man or woman, be they evil or good, strong or weak, will come to die. And unlike the Eldar kin, they are not reborn, but leave the confines of this world.

"Here Finrod spoke of something little known outside of ourselves, for we are not one to speak much of it. If she thought that for elves death was escapable, she was wrong. Our spirits and our life is bound to the life of Arda; but though we do not know how long it will last, the life of Arda is not forever, and when it is gone we too will perish, and where will we go then? We have no more idea than do your people. Our hunter, the hunter of death, is slow but never looses the trail. And death delayed is no less a grievance, or a fear. And beyond death we know of no hope.

" 'I did not know this,' said Andreth. 'And yet…'"

" 'And yet at least ours is slow-footed, you would say?' said Finrod. 'True. But it is not clear that a foreseen doom long delayed is in all ways a lighter burden than one that comes soon. But if I have understood your words thus far, you do not believe that this difference was designed so in the beginning. You were not at first doomed swift death.'"

And Andreth spoke in bitterness, saying that all is folly, both Eru who made us and the valor of the elves and humans. And Finrod warned her not to confuse Eru with Morgoth, for Eru had created all, including Morgoth. And he said that while Morgoth could corrupt someone there, cozen another here, he did not have the power to doom the deathless to death from father unto son, and take the memory of such a loss away. No. Only one has that power—the One, Eru, Father of all. And so he asked her, Andreth, what have your people done before in years uncounted to invoke such the wrath of Eru that he revoked the immortality granted to humans?

And she would not answer him, for it was not spoken to folk of other races what the lore-masters she knew spoke of in uncertain murmurs. For mortal man has fled from the memories of what happened to them so long ago, and can no longer remember exactly what happened. And Finrod asked her if her people would be the only to know—for would the Valar not know? And she answered, 'The Valar? How should I know, or any Man? You Valar do not trouble us either with care or with instruction. They sent no summons to us.'"

" 'What do you know of them?' said Finrod. 'I have seen them and dwelt among them, and in the presence of Manwë and Varda I have stood in the Light. Speak not of them so, nor of anything that is high above you. Such words came first out of the Lying Mouth. Has it never entered into your though, Andreth, that out there in ages long past ye may have put yourselves out of their care, and beyond the reach of their help? Or even that ye, the Children of Men, were not a matter that they could govern? For ye were too great. Yea, I mean this, and do not only flatter your pride: too great. Sole masters of yourselves within Arda, under the hand of the One. Beware then how you speak! If ye will not speak to others of your wound or how ye came by it, take heed lest (as unskilled leeches) ye misjudge the hurt, or in pride misplace the blame.'"

"Then in the beginning we were not doomed to die?" Nionë whispered, afraid to break the silence left by the ending of the elf-lord's words.

"By the words of Andreth, men were never to taste death, born to life everlasting without end. This in itself is confusing, for she says two things; one, that while your bodies are made of the stuff of Arda and are sustained by it, you would not perish with Arda. The second is that if such was true, of unending life, your spirit and body would be out of line—and a body and mind out of harmony is a body and mind tainted. She said there was an answer for the first, but would not give it; for the second, she thought it no large matter."

"Did she ever say why we were changed?"

"There was a story spoken of, that long ago Eru spoke to your people, aiding them and teaching them, but that soon they harkened to the temptation of Morgoth, and so Eru revoked his blessing."

Nionë's head had come to rest against Gil-galad's shoulder, and he had moved so his cloak covered her shoulder, keeping her warm in the chill night. It was a touch like that from child to father, and Gil-galad felt no discomfort at the closeness. "Then it was our fault we came to be what we are?"

"I suppose that could be said, yes. It was the choice of your people long ago that decided your fate today."

She pulled back and looked at him. "Then I ask you again, Lord of the Eldar, what happiness could we, your weakened and bedamned kin ever offer you?" Her voice was soft but full of sadness and bitterness.

He tilted her face so her eyes met his. "You offer us hope, little one," he said gently and kissed her brow. "Now to bed. I have perhaps depressed you beyond what is healthy, and Elrond will have my hide if you sicken again."

"Thank you for telling me. I would have liked to know."

"I know that, little one. That's why I told you."

She smiled sadly and skipped off into the distance, leaving Gil-galad in the darkness under the trees, deep in thought. 


	4. Chapter Four: Anywhere Is

By: Lady of the Rings

Rating: PG-13 for some tense moments and poisons. 

Disclaimer:

 The lyrics in this chapter, namely those from _China Roses in the CD __The Memory of Trees, are not mine and I do not claim them so do not sue me. They belong to their respective copyright. The only characters in this story that are mine are Celebmîr, Nionë, and Annos. All else belongs to Tolkien and I in no way claim his creation as my own, I am not making money off this, and this story was written for pure enjoyment only. Also, the quotes from the book __Morgoth's Ring were taken without permission, and as I am making no money off of this and again it was strictly for enjoyment only, please do not sue me. Thanks. :D_

Spoilers: None

Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com

Summary:

This is placed in a tiny pocket of time when Gil-galad and Elrond brought their army to Rivendell in the Second Age to meet with Elendil. Elendil's niece, Nionë is being poisoned—but why, and by whom? And when the attacker goes after Elrond, things take a deadly turn…

Series:

None yet!

Additional disclaimers: 

Within this text there are likely to be quite a few errors, and while I have gone over it numerous times with a fine-toothed comb, there are likely to still be errors. Please forgive any that you find. I am not a Tolkien expert and do not claim to be. I will to my best to keep everything looking spick-and-span, but even writers make mistakes on their manuscripts. I know that things would have been really grim in the time that I am writing about, but such stories depress me. Just think of this as a little alternate reality story with Tolkien characters in a Tolkien world, and that it actually might have happened. Thank you for being so understanding. I also know that Elrond would not be spending his time teaching a too-perfect girl how to speak elvish, but that's the way the story came out. Also, a '*' means there is a translation or a note at the end of the story. I put this next to all of the elvish.  

A/N: First of all, I will try and write a sequel, since even though this probably turned out to be my worst story, I had the most fun writing it and I'd like to get to know Nionë's daughter a little more. I edited it slightly and reposted one or two chapters (well, actually I just reposted the last one) but if you have any questions you can always email me. Possibly one of the reasons I loved writing this so much, even though by most standards it wasn't all that great a story, is because Nionë is my real name in elvish. I found it one day, just after I started this story, decided it sounded better than "Shalona," Nionë's original name, and changed it. I probably had more fun writing this story than almost any other story—except _Daughter of the Elves. So if its not my best or your favorite, forgive me…authors have to write a silly Mary-Sue sometimes, just to get it out of our systems. Thanks for putting up with it anyway. :D_

-LadyoftheRings

Chapter Four

_I walk the maze of moments_

_But__ everywhere I turn to_

_Begins a knew beginning_

_But never finds a finish_

_I walk to the horizon_

_But__ there I find another_

_It all seems so surprising_

_And then__ I find that I know_

_-Anywhere Is, sung by Enya_

            Nionë whispered affectionately to her hawk, stroking the beak and head of the hunter who sat patiently on her shoulder. She was curled in her window seat. After her talk with Gil-galad she had been unable to find any rest. It was nearly an hour past dawn, and most of the household was awake or stirring. A knock tapped against her door.

            "Isa…"

            "Coming, my lady." The petite, buxom girl trotted over to the door and pulled it open a crack.

            She glanced over her shoulder. "It's your father, my lady."

            Nionë went white, but her voice was steady. "Show him in."

            "Have I heard correctly?" Annos' voice was very cold as he entered carefully, guided by a manservant. He waved the man away impatiently as he took a seat on a chair. "You're still fraternizing with this elf-lord?"

            "I am learning much from them, father."

            "Obliviously not much on the virtue of staying chaste until marriage."

            "Father!"

            "Do not deny it. I know what you've been doing with him, and it sickens me."

            "You are wrong!" she shouted. "For once in your life, father, believe me when I tell you I have never slept with a man of the Noldor nor plan to!"

            "And you are a liar now, as well. What a wonderful daughter you have grown up to be."            

            Tears of frustrating blinded Nionë as she turned away. "What difference does it make? You never believe me. You never, ever believed me when I told you something. Not after mother…"

            "We're not here to talk about your mother!"

            "No, you're right. I forgot. You're too ashamed to have a half-elven daughter to even speak of her mother!"

            "That's enough!" he roared, loud enough to bring the roof down about their ears. Nionë clasped her hands over her head and wept softly. "I will have no much such disobedience! Or I will strip you as my heir and send you to rot in the northern wastelands!"

            "I _dare you to try it," she answered, beyond rage now. "I just dare you. I am no man's thing and I never will be. You could never accept that I had a mind of my own __like my mother!"_

            "Enough of your mother!" he shouted. "We are here to talk about you!"

            "*No father, we are here so I can tell you something. I am relinquishing my title as your heir. From now own I am no longer part of the house of Elendil; no longer Elendil's second cousin through your bloodlines I am Nionë, child of a dead father and a lost mother, and I have no relation to you or your family. My only kin is those of the elves; and my only love is for them. So now, father dear, which one of us have you dammed to hell?"

            Her father's cry of denial could be heard down the hall.

*     *     *     *

            Elrond stared at Nionë in stunned silence. Elendil was in shock—it was the first show of volatile emotion Elrond had ever seen the noble warrior give. 

            "Nionë, Nionë, why did you do this?" he asked through his tears. "You have torn apart your own family! Don't you realize what this means? You will be stripped of everything except the clothes on your back. You will be nothing more than a peasant, and the blood of Númenor will fade in your noble veins."

            She knelt and took her uncle's hands. "I understand that, my dear uncle, but understand this; I can live no longer with my father's abashment of our kinsmen the elves. I will live no longer with the outrage for I know that he will surely banish me if he finds that I have married an elf."

            "You _what?" Elrond and Gil-galad cried in unison. _

            "Yes." She put her fingers to her lips and gave three quick whistles, a long blast, and then two short whistles again. Her hawk appeared through the window and landed on her thickly padded wrist. She whispered to it and then launched it into the air again. 

            "Who?" Elendil asked sternly. 

            "Celebmîr."

            "Celebmîr is Sindarin!"

            "Of course. When is said I had never slept with a man of the Noldor, nor planned to, I was telling the truth. It was he Elrond saw standing over me."

            "Then who has been trying to kill you?"

            "I do not know," she answered sadly. "If I did, I would be happy indeed."

            There was a knock on the door, and then it opened and in stepped Celebmîr. He stopped when he saw the three lords and his wife gathered in the room. Erestor stood behind him.

            "Who knew?" Elendil's voice was low with anger.         

            "I guessed, my lord," Gil-galad said quietly. 

            Nionë turned on him, surprised. "You did? What gave it away?"

            "Your love for the Eldar for one, my dear. The second was how adamant you were that you would never marry the son of a human."

            She smiled shyly and looked down as Celebmîr came to stand protectively at her side. She leaned into his embrace. They were quite a pair. Both tall and fair beyond mortal standards, his dark hair shoulder-length and flowing, hers short and curly. 

            "I knew." Erestor stepped forward. "I married them." Elendil looked shocked, and even Gil-galad blinked in surprise.

            Elrond sighed. "While we're on the topic of suppressed secrets, I suppose I should tell you this, Nionë. You're pregnant."

            "You are?" said Elendil.

            "She is?" exclaimed Celebmîr. 

            "I am?" said Nionë. 

            Erestor smiled demurely. "It has been about two years since I married them. I suspect that is enough time."

            "Erestor!" Elrond was shocked at his bluntness.

            "Oh, grow up, Elrond. I've seen the way you look at Celebrían."

            "She's a friend, nothing more," Elrond protested as Elendil and Gil-galad laughed heartily. 

            "Two years?" Elendil said when he was sober. "Do I know nothing of what goes on within my own family?"

            Nionë had the grace to be embarrassed. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it, uncle." She turned to Elrond. "How many months?"

            He smiled. "She'll be born in high summer of next year. Eight months from now."

            "How do you know it's a 'she'?" Elendil demanded.

            Elrond gave him a look. "I'm a healer, my lord."

            Nionë squeaked in surprise as Celebmîr pulled her into an embrace and kissed her quickly. She grinned and leaned against him. Gil-galad smiled at their newfound joy. It was a pleasure to see such a thing in such dark times. 

            "Yes, brother. Ever was she your joy—and your downfall."

            Celebmîr turned in surprise at the voice of his brother, keeping Nionë close to him. The elf blew a dart at his brother's face and then collapsed. Elrond ran to his side and touched the fallen elf's shoulder. "Poison," he whispered, and turned at Nionë's cry. 

            She cradled her husband's head in her hands, weeping softly. Elrond knelt beside him and pulled the dart free. He gasped with pain and his eyes shut.

            "No, Celebmîr, no," she sobbed. "Please, no!"

            The elf opened his eyes and stared at her without seeing. "Mother?" he said uncertainly, and fell still. 

            She let out a cry and fell forward on top of him. Gil-galad knelt down and looked at Elrond, who shook his head silently. There was nothing the healer could do. Gil-galad gently but firmly pushed Nionë away, into the arms of her uncle. He rolled up his sleeves grimly and closed his eyes.

            _Ever has teaching been our greatest joy._

            "Elbereth Gilthoniel," he whispered. "I hear do sacrifice my life in place of this elf's."

            _You give us hope, littling._

            "I give my spirit to save him. Should I die I will never be reborn in Middle-Earth or Valinor. This is the sacrifice I offer thee."

            _Do you know fully what you offer, Ereinion son of Fingon?_

            _Ever has teaching been our greatest joy._

_            Yes, I know what I sacrifice._

_            Your sacrifice is accepted son of Fingon. You shall never be reborn in Middle-Earth or Valinor as long as Arda shall exist. In return the elf's spirit shall be rehoused._

            Gil-galad stood up slowly. He didn't feel any different, didn't think he would live any different from what he planned, but it was a strange thing, this feeling. It was as if a heavy burden had been placed upon his shoulders, bending him slightly but not breaking him. But when life was breathed back into Celebmîr's cooling body, when he opened his eyes and Nionë let out a gasp of amazement and pulled her husband into her arms, when he thought of Nionë's unborn child, he knew that his and Elrond's sacrifice had been worth the cost.        

            Elrond pulled him aside, his face serious. "What did you sacrifice to save him?" he asked in a low voice.

            Gil-galad placed his hand on the younger elf's shoulder. "Naught more than what you sacrificed for Nionë, my friend." Without another word he turned and left the room, leaving the elf-lord, the lord of humans, and the newlyweds holding each other close in disbelief together as the sun set in the western sky and the breeze stirred the golden leaves. 

            _You and yours give us hope, my little one._

*     *     *     *

            _On July 2nd, 3234 of the Second Age, a beautiful daughter, Liltanellë, was born to Celebmîr and Nionë Galad-rondil, who would like it known that they took their last name in honor of Gil-galad and Elendil, deceased 3441, and Elrond Peredhel, currant Master of Imladris in the Northern Kingdom. Annos, Nionë's father, passed away that same day, apparently from a heart attack.  _

*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*

*Celebmîr= Silver Stream

The lyrics from Enya's CD's _A Day Without Rain (Wild Child and __Only Time) and __Paint the Sky with Stars (__China Roses and __Anywhere Is) are not mine and I do not claim them. They are copyrighted their respective CD's and the lyrics are only borrowed because I like starting off chapters with little quotes and what not. Please do not sue me, I am not claiming these lyrics are mine, etc. _

Please note: All of the elvish is Quenya: 

Tye ulundo! = you monster!

Fúmë = sleep

Titta quén = little one

Mára raimë, otorno = Good hunting, brother

Undu! = down! 

Quildë hinya = quiet/hush my child.

*Arda=Earth

*This story is taken from _Morgoth's Ring_, from the chapter _Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth_, or the Discussion of Finrod and Andreth. I highly suggest reading this, as it is very interesting. 

*Nionë is related to Elendil because her father is a cousin of Elendil. Technically their second cousins but I just have her refer to him as "uncle."

Liltanellë = laughing brook


End file.
